


A Storm of Trouble

by HeyHeyArnold



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Drinking, Gen, POV Second Person, Pirate!Calum, Swearing, best friends causing trouble, best friends finding themselves in a night of chaos, brief appearances of Calum being A Little Shit, gender neutral!reader, just platonic friends that's all, pirate!Michael, reader as a sex worker (no graphic details), sword fights, the briefest mention of sex worker!ash, violence but no graphic details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyHeyArnold/pseuds/HeyHeyArnold
Summary: - When the pirate ship Michael lives aboard docks for the night, he reconnects with his old friend living near the port and is reminded why he'd usually rather take his chances at sea. Land lubbers are only good for trouble. -
Relationships: Michael Clifford & You
Kudos: 1





	A Storm of Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> This all started because of that damn earring...  
> 
> 
> Find it [here](https://blackbutterfliescal.tumblr.com/post/626827974544670720/a-storm-of-trouble) on Tumblr ✨ Come say hi!

The wooden slats above Michael’s head groaned, heavy with footsteps and many years of wear on the high seas. It was clear that the ship was docking somewhere for the night to restock supplies, but Michael couldn’t be stirred from the hammock where he rested just below deck. Several minutes passed as he concentrated on the slow drip of water into the pail in the corner, looking for some sense of peace in the chaos the rest of the crew was creating. The metal made a sharp sound with each drop that hit, but it was a tone he’d grown accustomed to after many months aboard this particular ship. He often used it to lull himself to sleep, struggling to ignore Calum’s incessant snoring. It wasn’t until one of his crewmates shouted the name of a familiar port that Michael paid much attention to the commotion happening on the surface. Usually preferring to stay aboard the ship and not risk any potential scuffles on land, he now understood why so many of the crew were anxious to disembark. **  
**

Port Royal was notorious for the wide array of debauchery around every turn. Especially this time of night, it was always crawling with other scoundrels just looking for a bad fight or a good fuck. Or maybe a good fight and a bad fuck. The derelict port had such a reputation for its treatment of outsiders that none of the king’s men ever dared a visit, leaving the people who were floating through to act as their own law and order. 

The grimy, dilapidated buildings just past the worn dock called to Michael. He’d lived a pirate’s life since he was orphaned as a young boy, sailing far and wide, but this port was the closest thing he had to a home. He only hoped that he could find his oldest friend still in the hut just past the wall where the land met the sea.

———

Michael made his way beyond the wobbly old dock, peering in the dimly lit pubs only briefly as he passed. His well-worn leather boots carried his tired feet through the filthy streets to an all-but-forgotten yet somehow still familiar scene. Covered by the shadow of the night couples of every sort were pressed against each other, no doubt trading secret desires. At his unfamiliar approaching figure, the silhouetted couples all vanished into the brothel before him quicker than he could blink an eye. 

Hidden from easy view in the moonlight, the door slammed against the frame just as Michael approached. His hands, rough from years of work as a swabby, landed hard against the faded green wood thrice before it swung open. It rested uneven on its hinges and revealed a plump young woman in dark red corseted dress. The ruffles around her neckline were no longer a crisp, clean white but still managed to pull Michael’s attention directly to her ample bosom. His eyes continued to work over her figure. He didn’t miss the way her stomach pushed out against the ribbed garment covering it. She was such a sight that Michael considered a short detour before beginning to search the brothel for you.

“Well, ain’t ye a handsome devil. Fancy cracking Jenny’s teacup, eh?”

Before Michael could let a smooth response fall from his mouth, footsteps landing hard under long strides sounded down the hallway. Michael’s eyes, dark with lust, brightened as he took you in. You were exactly as he remembered and somehow completely different. It had been years since Michael was last in Port Royal but the two of you had kept up through letters as you were able. 

“Back off, _wench_. This one’s wit’ me.” The woman in red threw a scowl and a few choice curses at you as you squeezed past her in the doorway, arms quickly finding Michael in a tight embrace. “Oi, s’that a hornpipe in yer pocket or are ya just happy t’ see me?” You offered him a cheeky grin as his face warmed, caught red-handed, and he cast his gaze past you to find the woman in red missing from the door frame.

———

As seemed natural, you and Michael found yourselves kicked back in the corner of the closest pub. Boot-clad feet resting high on the table and a second bottle of rum nearly gone, you shared laughs and stories between swigs that were drowned out in the raucous noise of the other patrons. Two large men were attempting to settle their score through a game of fisticuffs at the bar and neither seemed to have their wits about them, stumbling on their own feet. A number of recognizable faces from the brothel were here to pick up company for the night, or maybe just the next few minutes. The most familiar face among them was Ash. A wordsmith of sorts, he had settled in close to a pretty, young blonde with eyes so blue that you could make them out across the room. Michael could pick out the back of Calum’s head as he raked in a pile of coins, no doubt employing his sharp mind in a game of liar’s dice.

Unphased by the rowdy crowd, the two of you were content in a universe that was contained entirely at that corner table. Michael told you stories of all the places he’d visited since you’d last seen him. Tales of India and China and all the bounty you could imagine. To be no older than he was, he’d done a lifetime’s worth of travelling. It didn’t come easy though. Work aboard a pirate ship, even with a fair captain, was endless and often meant risking life or limb to secure loot. He also listened intently as you recounted your tale of the one who had left you high and dry after a broken engagement. It had left your heart with an unhealing wound as deep red as the rope burns on Michael’s calloused hands. His eyes remained soft as you spoke of the person you thought was finally going to pull you out of the life you led. Routinely selling your body to the highest bidder had never much bothered you. You often found a sense of power at being the agent of someone’s deepest desires.That was until this one particular person became a frequent caller of yours. You knew no shame about the way you earned your coin but now you were crushed under their broken promises of a steady life, a life that didn’t mean hiding from the law or rousing up drunk sailors just to put food in your stomach.

Neither of you would have chosen life as a criminal for yourselves, but any trace of life before this felt like it belonged to someone else. As Michael began to yell for another bottle of rum, the back door to the pub flew open and landed harshly against the wall behind it. The man standing where the door had been was intimidating.Twice as large as Michael and covered in tattoos. He was flanked by a woman whose arms looked strong enough to crush you with ease and a bald man with a weathered scar down the right side of his face, covered only briefly by the leather patch on his eye.

“I knew I smell’d a bilge rat. Clifford! We ‘ave a debt t’ settle!!” His accent was heavy and you thought maybe it was Irish. His eyes landed on Michael, lounging in the far corner. As Michael’s eyes went wide and he leapt to his feet, he felt his head spin from the booze. The man that had barged in drew his sword and that was enough to bring Michael back for just a moment, long enough to process that he was in trouble. He quickly pulled you to your feet and tugged you behind him. “Shame! We’re jus’ leavin’!”

It took most of your self-control not to spray out the last burning chug of alcohol you’d just thrown back before being snatched up from your seat. You made a quick recovery, considering the amount of rum you’d already swallowed down, crashing out the front door and spilling into the muddy road. You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been in the pub but you’d clearly missed any indication of the current downpour. You splashed through the streets, following Michael’s already soaked form in and out of countless doorways. As he cleared what had to be the twentieth doorframe, he stepped quickly into the corner and pulled you with him. You landed against his broad chest with a thud. It would have knocked the wind out of you if you hadn’t already been breathing heavy from the zig-zagged marathon.

As you took a step back from Michael, he let his fast grip fall and looked around at where he’d landed the two of you. He saw the pigs in the opposite corner sleeping in the cool mud and the horse’s stall just next to the pig pen. He held his index finger to his pursed lips, signaling you not to disturb the livestock. Just as you were finally able to catch your breath, you felt it hitch in your throat again as the large brutish man called out to Michael. “Alright ye filthy animal. I know yer hidin’ ‘round ‘ere somewhere.” You shared an amused glance at the choice of words. Michael began to slowly draw the large blade looped through the belt hanging against his hip, preparing to go down fighting. You felt a brief sense of panic at the realization that you’d left your own sword behind. Spying a smaller handle on Michael’s other hip, you reached your hand out to grip the tarnished handle and pulled it up in front of you. The knife flashed in the low light, smaller than the blade you were accustomed to, but desperate times….

Taking careful steps, or as careful as possible after two bottles of rum, Michael inched his way out of the barn door and into the rain. You were a few steps behind him and hadn’t cleared the door yet when the scar-faced man appeared behind Michael with a taunt. Just as he raised his blade to engage Michael, you brought the heavy handle of your weapon down on top of his head. The man immediately fell face-first into the water at Michael’s feet. Michael’s hair clung to his face in the rain as he spun to give you a wide-eyed but silent thank you, hoping the others that were still after him weren’t close enough to hear.

No sooner did the thought cross his mind than two menacing shadows appeared at the other end of the barn. You stashed Michael’s knife in your belt, bending down to snatch the sword from the man lying on the ground, and took off again hot on Michael’s heels. You followed him around the back of another house and down a pitch black alley.

As you emerged on the other side, a loud grunt sounded beside you, followed by the clang of Michael’s sword meeting the Irishman’s. It was shortly followed by his partner’s blade meeting your stolen one. Though you’d had your fair share of practice with a sword, you felt like a novice next to Michael’s skillful hand. Metal clashed as the storm raining down on the island intensified, lightning strikes flashing through the sky with every scrape of swords. The woman you were up against was clearly a better swordsman than you and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep up. You weren’t sure how it had happened, but she had you backed against a wall. Your sword was the only thing keeping her blade from bearing down on your throat. As quickly as you could manage, you brought one hand to your belt, pulling the knife out again before landing it in the woman’s side. Her mouth fell open and she stumbled back from you as you removed the blade. Her sword clattered to the ground and it wasn’t long before she fell beside it. The wound wasn’t enough to kill her but it would keep her out of your way so you could help Michael.

You hadn’t been able to spare him a glance as you fought for your own life but you weren’t shocked to see that he was holding his own against the giant. You ran up behind the man with a yell and he spun around to meet your blow. After sending you stumbling back a few steps, he turned to face Michael again. He wore the shock on his face as Michael’s blade came to rest in the hollow of his throat. The man slowly lowered his weapon, realizing Michael had bested him. You heard a shuffle behind you as the woman reached for her sword. Your boot landed heavy on top of the metal as you trained your sword on her, daring her to make a move. Behind you, Michael’s words were lost in the sudden boom of thunder. Only when you heard him call your name did you take your eyes off the woman on the ground in front of you. Michael was backing away as he lowered his weapon, seeming to have settled his debt. You slowly removed your foot from the sword on the ground, giving the most menacing look you could manage, and ran after Michael’s retreating figure. When you caught up to him, you noticed that the sleeve of his open shirt had been torn and under it there was a gash in Michael’s bicep. After much persuasion, Michael agreed to follow you back to the brothel to get it cleaned up. If it became infected, it could cost him his life.

———

Bringing Michael in would have caught attention in any state, but as he held onto his arm and dripped rainwater everywhere, you gathered more stares than you would have liked. He leaned over the kitchen table, waiting for you to gather supplies. It wasn’t pretty but you doused the wound with alcohol and Michael seemed more upset at the loss of rum than the burning it caused. Once it was cleaned to your satisfaction, you ripped the hem of your clothing to tie it around his arm.

“Thanks.” His eyes were soft as they met yours. “I would ‘ave been a dead man without yer help.”

“Yer goddamn right! But what else are friends fer?”

You shared a laugh as Michael pushed himself back upright with his other arm, following you back to the front door and out into the night. The storm seemed to have run its course and left only a light drizzle in its wake as you made your way through the streets again, walking under cover of any roof you passed. You walked with your heads ducked between coverings as you laughed and recounted your astounding victory over Michael’s assailants, wondering what happened to the scar-faced man. 

Up ahead, you spot a familiar figure walking in your direction. Without warning, you shove Michael into a dark alley and shush him with wide eyes. Luckily for you, your unfortunate recurring caller had kept their gaze on the ground in an effort to keep the still-falling droplets off their face. They hadn’t seen you disappear but you hadn’t noticed how incredibly narrow this alley was. You shivered as you felt Michael’s warm breath fall across your rain-slicked face. Your feet stood between his and there was hardly enough room between your chests to take a full breath in. Michael’s eyes stayed trained on you, looking for any sign of an all clear. You watched intently, waiting for the caller to pass by. Once they made their way by the narrow opening where you hid without suspicion, you placed your hands on Michael’s sides to steady yourself and pushed your head toward the street. As the figure made a turn, you counted to three silently and stepped out into the street again with a dramatic exhale. Michael slowly followed you with a quizzical look on his face.

“Ya can wipe that look off yer face, ya smug bastard. I ain’t talkin’ ‘til ye explain the burly man and his goons chasin’ ya earlier.” Michael’s expression dropped with a humorous scoff, unwilling to share what had landed him in such trouble. Nights like tonight were exactly why he preferred to stay aboard the ship. He just couldn’t resist the chance to catch up with you. You also knew that tonight would cost you. Literally. You’d have to up the ante the rest of the week to make up for the night out but you felt that Michael was worth it.

———

Conversation continued to flow easily, as if nothing between the two of you ever changed. You weaved through the streets, careful to avoid main thoroughfares for worry of any more excitement. Two close calls was enough for one night. It didn’t slip your notice that both of you took to yawning big, deep breaths much more frequently as the last few hours slipped by, a sign that the morning light was well on its way. You knew you’d be able to catch a few hours of sleep once Michael was back on the water, but you also hoped he’d be able sweet-talk someone into letting him curl up in his hammock for a little while. You didn’t give it too much worry though. You knew Michael never had trouble sweet-talking his way through anyone. He’d always been a charmer.

As you made your way through the last side street and onto the dock, you heard a loud rumble of footsteps and immediately braced your newly-found sword. Your other hand fell on Michael’s knife, still tucked into your belt, and quickly handed it over to him as he drew his own blade. A flash of surprise crossed his face as if he’d gone all night without realizing the knife was missing. The sounds of enraged men grew louder as they rounded the corner. Michael immediately recognized Calum at the front of the crowd, realizing quickly that Calum’s clever antics had landed him in trouble yet again. You followed Michael’s lead and dropped your weapon as he let out a full-bellied laugh. As Calum dashed past you down the dock, he yelled out a casual greeting and flashed a cheeky grin. “Michael!” One hand raised to meet his brow in a salute. “Michael’s friend!” Another salute.

You joined Michael in another fit of laughter. As he turned to watch Calum running down the dock to their safe haven, Michael saw their ship and realized the ropes were being pulled off the dock as the ramp to the ship was being dragged back over the railing. A few curses fell from his lips as he took off in a dead run after his friend, yelling something unintelligible over his shoulder that was surely meant for you. You thought it was something about not groping for trout in any peculiar rivers but had no idea what he could mean and dismissed it as Michael being Michael. Your sides began to hurt from laughter as he passed the angry mob to catch up with Calum. Both men leapt through the air at the same time as their ship pulled away from the dock. Calum’s hands grabbed hold of the railing while Michael employed his knife to keep hold of the ship. Calum pulled himself overboard with ease and turned to quickly bring Michael onboard with him. A few brave, but ill-fated, members of the mob risked a jump but landed in the water with a splash. They resurfaced with enough curses to make Blackbeard blush. Michael threw an obscene gesture at the disgruntled men before lifting his gaze to wave goodbye to you as they made off into the bright sunrise under a clear sky.


End file.
